


Double Or Nothing

by Caradee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Erik doesn't tell Charles how he feels, Erik is stony faced, I Don't Even Know, James is confused, Kidnapped, M/M, and so in love, friendhsip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caradee/pseuds/Caradee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James feels as if he is being watched. </p><p>Or...</p><p>For the Kink Meme Prompt: One of the Marvel supervillains needs to get Charles Xavier in order to complete his another crazy plan. One problem: Xavier is already dead. The villain can't create his clone (he can try but his plan won't work without "the original"). So he/she decides to get Charles from another realm.</p><p>In ours Charles is called "James McAvoy".</p><p>Erik learns about the villain's plans and manages to follow him/her. It's up to the anon!writer if he gets there on time.<br/>Anyway, I want Erik to stay by James' side at least for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Or Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: Sorry this is unbeta'd. Honestly I found this old piece and just finished it. It is something to post while I edit the monster piece I'm currently working on. 
> 
> Also, I really like this prompt. So I'm doing a challenge with it. Writing three different variants. This is Part 1/3. The others will be completely different stories using the same prompt. We'll see how this goes. This piece started short and then just... grew. 
> 
> Last but not least... this was a totally off the fly story. I apologize for any plot holes. Honesty I just liked the idea of Erik being a guardian angel for unknowing James McAvoy and being completely in love with him.

He feels as if he is being watched. Which is silly really because James knows damn well he’s being watched. All the cast and crew are staring at him, the bloody camera are staring at him, he has done this a million times but has never felt like this! He stumbles nonsensically over his next lines.

“James!”

“Sorry sorry.” his accent slips back in the comfortable roll of his natural Scottish brogue while he scans the area and gives an apologetic look. “I just got... distracted.” Turning back he can see Michael trying to hold in a toothy smile. The German man’s arms are crossed over his chest in a knowing way that makes James shrug his shoulders and question him, “What?” His own smile breaks through though and he takes great pleasure when Fassbender loses his composer altogether.

“Nothing nothing” Michael smirks, “ I should be the one apologizing though.” at James raised eyebrow he explains, “didn’t mean to distract you.”

“Shut it.”

“Alright we’re going to try again. Places everyone.”

The set goes into a flurry of movement as everyone tries to settle back in their spots. James takes a deep breathe and prepares himself for another scene as Charles Xaiver when Matt shouts, “Action.”

And once again the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up and he feels as though he is being watched. 

*** 

He drinks a little too much that night in a bar with Jennifer, Michael, and a few of the sound crew. For some reason he feels the need to, and when the buzz hits his veins and a happy drunk smile creeps across his face James is happy he complied with the need.

At some point in the night Michael starts singing Irish drinking songs, and James feels the need to compete as he butts in with a few Scottish songs. It continues until they are trying to scream over the other and keep bursting into giggling fits, bodies leaning against one another for sport or something solid.

Jennifer leaves not long after that, and Michael excuses himself to use the restroom, but not before getting a mug of water for James to sip on of before he staggers away. He sips at the water, a voice in the back of his head tells him it will help with the usual stomach ache he always gets after drinking, but then another voice tells him the water will sober him up faster and he really doesn’t want that. So he sips, and doesn’t really drink the water when a random man approaches him.

“Hello Charles,” the man says and James assumes he must be a sound assistant because the cast and crew usually call them by their character names. They think it is funny, and James is drunk enough to turn his head and smile at the call, “You seem a bit out of it. Let me drive you home.”

“That’s awfully nice of you Chap,” he smiles, voice falling into his clean english accent as he plays the part of Charles. The man smiles, so he must like it and James’ hand leaves his mug of water as he picks his body out of the bar chair and looks around, “Michael should be here soon...”

“Already am,” comes Michael’s strong accent, and James blinks not because the man’s hand falls on his elbow to keep him from swaying with a grip that is a little to tight, but because Michael all of the sudden doesn’t sound happy or drunk. He blinks glossy blue eyes at his friend and sees Michael isn’t smiling anymore either.

Uh oh.

“And that is nice of you, but I’m fine to drive us home.”

“Uh you sure about this?” James slurs but its too late, he’s already being dragged away from the befuddled assistant and out of the bar. The fresh night air hits his lungs like cold water, nothing like the thick Smokey atmosphere of the bar. It wakes him up a little, enough to notice Michael is almost at his car and the they are both too drunk to drive. He digs his heels into the ground in resistance but it hardly affects Michael’s stride, so he tries a different approach. “Whoa Fassbender, you... you can’t drive.”

The words seem to have a strange affect on the dark haired man as Michael stops and James stumbles to a halt beside him. The world is spinning a little, he’s more drunk than he thought now that he is walking around and not sitting at a table singing songs. He blinks rapidly, trying to catch what his co star is saying. “I’m perfectly sober James, believe me.”

“Oh... so were you just acting drunk in there to make me feel better?” he forces a laugh, “Or can you really just pound away the beers with your German stamina?”

“The later, now get in the car.” Michael pulls out his keys and presses a button, the lights on the bright silver prius blink as the car unlocks. James stares at the car, feeling as though he is about to throw up as the world keeps spinning. Michael gives him a moment before finally becoming impatient and helping him into the passengers seat. “Don’t throw up,” the dark haired man says with a slight smile.

James frowns, “I never throw up.”

“Good to hear.”

“Michael…”

A pause and then, “Yes James…”

“Were you wearing that shirt earlier?” The car door closes rudely in his face in response. James drunkenly shrugs and somehow falls asleep before they even get to his apartment.

 *** 

James wakes up in his bed the next morning. The details of how he got there are not with him, but he does remember that Michael drove him home, drunk. The thought makes him sit up in bed with as much alertness as he can gather being terribly hungover and blindly reaching for his phone. It takes a couple tries, before he finds it laying next to him in the sheets. It had fallen out of the back pocket of his jeans while he slept.

The hangover was creeping over him, making the back of his eyes ache and his mind fuzzy. Still he scrolls down to Michael’s name and presses the green button before collapsing onto his plush mattress.

The phone rings twice in his ear before someone picks up. “What do you want asshole?” Michael sounds awful.

“Good to hear you’re alive.” James replies with a small smile the other man can’t see but can maybe hear.

“Alive and feeling like shit,” Michael sighs, “Did I happen to get in a fight last night? I feel like I got in a fight.”

James honestly tries to remember for his friends sake. “Maybe, if the thing you were fighting was a chair. Does it feel like you lost?”

The voice on the other end snorts and switches subjects, “Why are you calling so early?”

“Sorry I care,” the Scotsman sniffed jokingly, “Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

“Of course I did after you abandoned me,” he hears the other man say and while the words work their way through James’ muddy mind Michael continues, “I took a taxi home.”

 “A taxi?”

“Now let me go back to sleep. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Michael doesn’t even say good bye before he hangs up leaving James blinking in confusion.

He fell back asleep and woke up hours later to go to work. Michael looks in about the same condition as him when he walks on set. Both wince when the lights come on and people start yelling. With the headache of the hangover and the production James tries not to think too much about Michael asking how his car appeared outside his apartment that morning.

           *** 

“Charles!”

James licks his lips as his face contorts into a grimace at the imaginary pain. Some of the sand has managed to fall into his mouth and he uses it to aid in his acting. Michael is by his side a second after the line is given, dressed in his bright blue and yellow suit wearing Magneto’s ridiculous helmet. The other man is firmly in the character of the torn friend, James can even see the water building in the back of his eyes, so he takes a deep breath and tries his best not to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Charles I’m so sorry,” Magneto Michael says, voice cracking in despair. He falls into his monologue and James patiently continues to look injured. The sand in his mouth crunches under his teeth though, and leaves a unsatisfying taste. He also fell on his hands a little to hard and can feel the irritated skin numbing his nerves. Then his wedding band starts to feel almost too tight on his finger.

“... This is what they want, us to turn against each other. We want the same things you and I...”

James’ laugh comes out in one breath, “Oh my friend...” he says and feels an odd burning sensation against his finger, “We do not.” The fire on his skin sparks and he lets out a surprised gasp that everyone thinks is due to his act. Even Matt commends him and Michael on the well done scene. After which, James takes off his wedding band to give his skin some fresh air, and tries not to stare at the raw red skin where the metal rubbed too hard.

 *** 

Michael lets out a surprised sound as James lands gracefully on his back. His legs immediately wrapping around the taller man and digging in to give more leverage as the Scot cackles gleefully, “To the trailers Michael.”

“I’m not a horse James,” Michael sighs but his mouth is shaped into the smile James recognizes to mean a challenge has been accepted and he starts walking. James lets out a whoop in victory, smiling while the cast around them laughs.

“Not a horse a pack mule,” he admits fondly to which Michael laughs and says, “Love you too.”

“The best pack mule in all the land.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, but after today I sure wouldn’t mind going for a drink.” They only have two more weeks of filming, and then it will on to the next production. Back across the ocean to the wife and home he has waiting for him. He misses Anne Marie, he misses his year old son, but he’ll miss the friends and attachments he has made on the set. A small voice in his head encourages him to live it up now before returning home, but Michael shakes his head.

“I’m not going out with you again, you’ll just abandon me.”

“I will not.” They reach the sea of trailers and Michael drops him with little ease onto the hard concrete. James lands on his feet with acrobatic grace and cuffs the man gently on the back, “I’ll be at the pub alone then. You know where to find me.”

His co star rolls his eyes and waves good bye, while James stalks away. He doesn’t want to go the bar alone, but he has a sinking feeling Michael will take him up on his invitation.

 ***           

He sits alone in a booth for nearly forty minutes before he sees a familiar figure stalk through the doorway. James can’t help but smile and nudge the second beer mug he had bought towards the open seat of the booth. Michael just raises his brows at the mug before sitting down and cupping his hands together. “How long were you alone?” the German asked. James just laughs, his hand coming up to nervously touch his messy hair.

“Ten minutes,” he lies easily and Michael gives him a familiar look that means the other man hears his lie but doesn’t say anything. James pushes the beer closer hoping it would do the job of distracting, and he feels a twinge of triumph when his co star sighs in defeat and takes a swig.

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Michael says slowly.

“No need to. Just having one maybe two beers then home.” He raises his own beer to his mouth and takes a couple gulps. The cool liquid feels glorious traveling down his throat. When he’s done a loud satisfied sigh escapes him.

Across the booth Michael’s fingers are tracing the rim of his beer mug while his eyes look around the bar. Searching something out. James gives the room a obvious look around as he asks, “What is it?”

He sees strangers at the bar and sitting area. No one from the crew or cast is in the building. James is almost relieved when he confirms they’re alone. He likes his alone time with Michael and it never seems like they have enough of it.

Steel blue eyes keep searching the area for a moment longer before Michael seems satisfied and he takes three big swigs of his beer- James counted. When the man lowers the mug he is facing a manically grinning Scotsman. James silently vows not to mock the way the man’s face flushes when it finally relaxes.

“What?” Michael’s tone is defensive, but James easily shrugs it off.

“Oh nothing, just glad you came out is all.” he says truthfully, and when Michael looks doubtful it almost hurts. “Really,” James tries again, “We’re wrapping up soon and I... I’m gonna miss our times together.”

There is a long silence that follows the words. Michael’s eyes dart down to his beer and stares at it almost miserably. James’ heart clenches, he thinks he has said something wrong. Touched a topic Michael had been purposefully avoiding. Shitshitshit. He needs to lighten the mood.

“No long faces though, alright mate?” he clinks his mug against the other’s causing some beer to spill onto the table but neither make a comment about it. “Its not like I’m worried you're going to go off and never speak to me again. You’ll probably call at the most inappropriate moments and leave terrible songs on my voicemail.”

"I wasn’t going to, but now that you brought it up James...” Michael’s smile is back, if not a little forced, and it definitely says something about the man’s acting skills that he can switch gears of emotion so quickly.

James knows there is still something Michael isn’t telling him. He knows there is something going on in the world at the moment that isn’t making sense, and shifts everything else around in the wrong order. But he decides not to push the issue. Not tonight.

If Michael isn’t going to talk about it. Then neither is he.

 *** 

Unfortunately you can only brush things under the carpet for so long. Eventually they come out in a mess of dirt and sludge causing a horrible mess of ones life. James figures this out a little too late a week from wrapping up the film. As he is heading towards his trailer to change out of his costume and give his wife a much needed call.

He climbs the steps of the trailer, grasps the handle on the door, and pushes- only to find the thing locked.

“Shite,” the curse comes out easily as his brows narrow on the metal knob and he flexes the handle from side to side. Hoping to jar the thing open. He didnt even know the trailer was able to lock really, and knew for a fact that he hadn’t been the one to lock it.

Wearily he glances around. His eyes just barely catch sight of a assistant scurrying past. “Oi, can you help me out?”

The assistant stops in his tracks and turns around. He is a older man, with one of the best beards James has ever seen. A ball cap and glasses obscure the rest of his face from view. He looks like the usual set hand. Dressed in a comfortable flannel shirt and jeans with a clipboard in hand. The man stares for a moment, as if trying to decide what it is precisely James might need and if he’s willing to help, before moving towards the trailer.

James’ body sags in relief. “Thanks mate, my trailer door seems to be locked.”

“Locked?” the man makes a face at that, as if James had picked the wrong word. “These trailers don’t lock.”

“Well its not letting me in.” he counters easily, raising a brow before turning to the door and jiggling the hand twice to demonstrate. “See?” He’s about to turn back to the stranger when a sharp pain bites into his neck. Its like a bee sting, he can feel something pierce the skin and stay inside even as his body lowers to the ground like a limp doll.

In any normal situation his mind would be a flurry of worry. _What is going on? Why can’t he move his arms properly? What does this guy want?_ As it turns out his brain is working too slowly to properly form these thoughts. Instead it takes all of his strength just to _blink_ at the guy towering over him, and then all his willpower just to keep his eyes open.

Eventually though, he loses that battle.

 *** 

He hears things before seeing them. The whirl of machinery, the clinking of pipes, a scuffle of footsteps pacing back and fourth.

Then he feels things. Cold damp air touching the skin on his face. His cardigan is wet and he wonders vaguely how _that_ happened. His legs feel like they have weights tied to them. Trying to kick out only ends up being a sluggish shift in movement and one that makes his head spin. There is rope securing his hands behind his back. It chaffs and doesn’t give an inch before James just gives up trying all together.

His own mouth mutters a low, “shit.” but the word doesn’t even sound like his voice. Its gravely and low, thick with despair.

He can’t open his eyes, not yet. They still feel to heavy, and he doesn’t think they would listen to him even if he could move his hands and pry them open himself. Besides, he can feel a soft cloth tied tightly around his temples. He has been blinded.

James tries not to think about that thought, instead he concentrates on the nausea that rolls through his stomach and decides that going back to sleep would be better than waiting for the worse to happen.

His body is more than happy to comply with him on that one.

*** 

Again, it is the sounds the come to James first. The scuffle of feet- faster and more frantic than before. A second pair of footsteps, stepping into a puddle and calmly walking forward. Voices, he hears voices.

“I should have known it was you.” someone unknown says. They sound angry.

James’ still foggy mind is awake enough to know that this conversation is  important. For his own survival he needs to pay attention and try to be on the same level as his would be kidnappers. But then the second voice speaks up and his heart jumps to his throat.

“You didn’t think I was going to just let you get away?”

Michael... why is Michael here, talking to a kidnapper, and sounding so calm?

James tries to call out, but a low groan is all he can muster through the thick fog of nausea. It will have to do as he groans again, louder.

He doesn’t know if his attempt is heard or not, as his kidnapper starts speaking, “Pretty clever of you playing the double card. How did you even get to here?- wait, no I don’t really care.”

“He’s not Charles you know. He won’t be able to help you.”

“Well then I’ll kill him.”

James’ heart races at the words. _Kill?_ What was he going to be killed for? He didn’t want to die.

Michael seems to agree. “I can’t let you do that.”

The entire room went quiet for a entire breath before a loud screech echoes in the air and the stranger starts gurgling. James’ mind is frantic in trying to piece together what is going on around him, the conversation between his captor and Michael, the noises filling his ears. It sounds like  the low groan of a steel bending and it just barely covers the last noises coming from the kidnapper before everything goes deadly silent again. The whole exchange takes maybe a minute but it feels like a lifetime.

Feebly he starts pulling at the rope binding his hands again, tries to kick out with his feet and fucking crawl away. Every hair on his body is standing up, his nerves are screaming at him to get away that he’s in the room with something very dangerous and finally- finally his body is beginning to listen to him.

Still he can’t help but try to call out to his friend, hoping that he is alright. “Michael?” It sounds like the name, though his voice is still off, but at least it is something.

Calm footsteps edge towards him and half of his mind is still yelling at him to panic while another part is at ease because this is Michael. His friend and Co star. Isn’t it?

When a hand touches his shoulder he can’t help but jerk away. Its a instinctual reaction but Michael’s voice calms him almost immediately, “Stop moving James.”

“I-I...” he wants to say something but too many thoughts are running threw his mind and its hard to settle on just one, “What just happened?”

“I saved you…”

Said so simply, as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Lips suddenly dry, James fumbles with his next question. “Saved me? Saved me from what?”

The blind fold lifts from his face and he quickly takes in the room they are in. A cold dark garage with concrete walls and a terrifying looking machine that pass for a prop in a horror movie. He shivers even with Michael's warm hands propping him up and untying his bonds. Then he sees it. The body laying a few feet away. He recognizes the features of the man who he had called over to undo the lock of his trailer.

Was he even alive?

When he turns to look at his friend, Michael’s lips are a grim line on his face. His eyes won’t look up to meet James’ stare as he undoes the last of the knots. “He was a mutant,” Michael says in a low, dangerous voice, “He thought you were Charles.”

“Charles?” James repeats, “as in, Charles Xavier?” It’s almost funny but then a horrible feeling sinks into the pit of his stomach. “”Did he… did he kidnap you too?”

Somehow that gets a laugh out of the other man. “No, I came here for you.”

His stomach tightens at the words, but he pushes it down to get to more important questions. Namely what Michael had just said a second ago. “Did you say… a mutant?”

Michael sighs, discarding the rope into a limp pile on the floor. He is still wearing a frown and still won’t even look at James. Concern immediately flares up in the Scot’s chest. “Michael… are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?”

That gets a reaction. His friend looks up wearing a soft expression. “I’m fine.” he says slowly before the look disappears into something completely different. Then he adds , “but… I’m not Michael.”

“I’m sorry what?” James pauses from rubbing his sore wrists to stare.

He expects this is Michael’s strange way of joking, a poor attempt to lighten the mood. But the other isn’t smiling. “I said I’m not Michael…” With that, he lifts a finger and a small screw from the floor and  floats in the air beside them. It just dangles there, as if on a invisible string. It’s orbit is strong and controlled and tentatively James reaches out to touch it. Surprise filters through him when he realizes it really _is_ floating.

A soft gasp escapes him at the realization and Michael smiles sadly, “My name is Erik Lehnsherr.”

He isn’t joking. At least… James doesn’t think he is. If this was a joke Michael would have broken character by now, would probably not even attempt at such humor after saving his friend from being kidnapped. Slowly James swallows and really looked at the man who is crouched next to him. He sees lines next to steel colored eyes that had never been there before. A small scar that runs across his temple. His is dressed like Michael, but definitely not him.

James tries to take in this information as quickly as possible, but for some reason his stomach has rolled into a ball of anxiety. Michael- No, Erik’s words from earlier ring in his head again. “If you really are Erik Lehnsherr then where is Charles? And what would that… mutant want with _me_?”

A shadow passes over Erik’s face quickly. He almost looks annoyed at the questions and… there is something else. Something James can’t quite place. “We call that mutant Warp. He is a self hating monster.” he seeths, “who has a machine that will end our race if he got a hold of Charles’ powers. A few weeks ago he tried to kidnap him and… Charles decided he would rather die than let that man get a hold of him.”

James’ throat tightens, it was definitely something Charles Xavier would do. Erik himself doesn’t look at all surprised but he does seem quiet. “At the time we didn’t know that he was a mutant. His ability allows him to travel to different worlds so when Charles…” his voice trails off and his eyes close for a second. It is then at James places the nameless emotion. Grief.

Erik is quick to compose himself though, and continues on as if he never paused. “When he was gone Warp hardly cared. He decided to use a Charles from another world. Your world.” He tilts his head and stares at James as if trying to really see him. “He didn’t realize that in this world while you may look like Charles you aren’t him.”

Those words hurt. Not because James would like to be Charles or would like to think of himself as him but because he can tell Erik wishes so desperately that he was. Licking his lips nervously he couldn’t help but ask, “So why did you save me?”

 “Because…” Erik sighs softly, “Its what Charles would have wanted.”

“Did you kill him?” he glances over at the limp body not to far away. There isn’t any blood which is a good sign.

“No,” Erik hardly looks happy at the fact, “I need him to get back to my own world but rest assured that when we return he will not live long.”

“Oh… I wish you didn’t tell me that.” James moans burying his face into his hands. It is all a little too much.

A odd silence hangs between them after that. The noise of haggard breathing echoes in the quiet and James realizes his breathing is getting out of control. Slowly he tries to control it, with slow deep breathes. Remembering all the yoga lessons he’d gone to over the past year. Strangely enough Erik just sits there and watches him. Heat creeps up his face under the look. “What?”

“I’m sorry this happened to you James,” Erik answers honestly and then smiles, “but to be fair you made it very difficult to protect.”

“Wha-” suddenly he remembers, “all those weird things happening to me… was that you?”

“I tried not to intervene too much in your world but in those instances I had to.”

A thought hits James and makes the world spin just a little bit. “Does… Does Michael know about this?”

Erik has the gaul to roll his eyes. “He does _now_. After you disappeared I had to tell him. Someone had to cover for your disappearance while I tracked you down.”

James tapped at his chin taking in the news. He would have loved to see Michael’s reaction to _that_ conversation.

He doesn’t know what else to say after that except, “Thank you.”

Erik snorts, “I told you why I did it.”

“Right,” he nods quickly, “but you said so yourself… I am not Charles. So you really didn’t have to.” It isn’t like the villain known as Magneto to save people when there was no need. Especially a non-mutant. That is probably due to the fact that the man in front of him is still the young Erik Lehnsherr. A man Michael plays perfectly who is still in the midst of growing. Who has apparently witnessed his friend’s death earlier than planned. James doesn’t know a lot about the comics but he knows Charles doesn’t die so young. Maybe that was a turning point. Maybe it has helped Erik have a change of heart. Maybe… Maybe Erik had saved him hoping to see Charles again.

The thought is almost too absurd to be true.  

“What happens now?” he asks as Erik stands and extends his arm to pull James to his feet. He takes it and his knees wobble pathetically while Erik’s firm hold steadies him.

“Now you go back to where you belong and I go back to where I belong.” Erik’s voice is stern again. The clear difference between him and Michael.

The hand doesn’t leave where it is placed on James’ elbow though. Even though the metal bender’s face remains it’s usual stony expression the rest of his body is betraying his hesitation. Erik’s mouth says he will leave but his feet say just aren’t moving.

It confirms James’ suspicion.

He and Michael agreed early on, before they really knew each other and were just reading words on a script that the story was a tragedy. Two men who clearly felt some sort of connection for one another torn apart by ideals and circumstances.  

Erik is right, he isn’t Charles but the bond between the two men are much like what he has found with Michael. With that thought in mind he moves forward and envelopes the man in a warm hug. They may not be the same people but as far as James is concerned they still have a connection. A bond.

That is what propels James forward into A brotherly hug. It is Erik though that pulls back slightly. At first he is confused, concerned that he read the man wrong, and then there are lips brushing against his own.

 _That’s a surprise_. He is stunned at first, lips parting in a quiet gasp that allows a warm tongue to slip through, and then he kisses back. It’s soft and doesn’t last very long before Erik pulls back.

Face flushed and eyes wide Erik stares at him,” You kissed me back…but you’re married..” His dark brows are narrowed in confusion, but James doesn’t miss how he keeps their bodies close. Ready to move forward again if given the right signs.

James nods because it is true. He is 100 percent straight and happily married but at the moment it felt right, and he knows why. He answers honestly,“ Charles would have wanted me to.”


End file.
